No Place That Far
by lorilee66
Summary: a 'what if' based on the episode 'The Murdered Party'
1. Chapter 1

The lights were shining through the windows as Jarrod slowly rode up to the house. They held the promise of warmth, of family and of home but the lawyer wasn't sure if any of those would be offered to him that night. He'd remained in town as long as he could without actually staying over in the hope that the rest of the family would have long since gone to bed. He sighed. Apparently, the Barkley luck was still shunning him.

Holding off facing his family for as long as possible, Jarrod took Jingo to the barn and unsaddled him. He curried the sorrel until his coat shone in the light of the lantern and took extra care in making sure his mount was bedded down comfortably for the night as he added hay to the manger and fresh water to the bucket hanging on the side of the stall. With one final pat on Jingo's shoulder, Jarrod turned to his gear. Usually Ciego took care of the tack, but brushing off the blanket and wiping down the leather as he checked over the seams and stitching helped him put off the inevitable for that much longer. Finally, there was nothing left for him to do and he reluctantly retrieved his brown leather case from the saddlebag and slowly made his way to the front door.

The lawyer stood on the porch with his hand hesitating over the handle for a moment before he took a deep breath and entered. He closed the door behind him, stepped down into the foyer and then stopped when he saw the family sitting in the parlour. Audra was working on a needlepoint sampler and Victoria was playing a game of chess with Heath. Nick, who never could sit still for too long, was pushing the logs in the fireplace around with a poker.

Jarrod slowly crossed the foyer and placed his hat carefully on the small table. No one said anything, not one word of greeting; they didn't even glance up from their tasks. Jarrod's stomach tightened painfully, the feeling even stronger than the gut-wrenching he had when Korby Kyles practically shouted his guilt for the whole courtroom to hear earlier that day. He'd expected this reaction, which was why he took so long to come home, but to see his family's condemnation so blatantly was more than Jarrod could bear at the moment. He turned without a word and quietly headed up the stairs to the sanctuary of his room.

He threw the folder down on the dresser with a loud slap and took out the bottle of scotch he kept upstairs. Pouring himself a generous amount, Jarrod tossed it back before splashing more into the glass. He carried it over to the leather-upholstered chair by the fireplace and set the glass down before removing his jacket and vest, tugging off his tie and throwing the items across the bed rather than neatly hanging them in the wardrobe as was his custom. Maybe he should have just stayed over in town, but he'd come home with a faint hope that his family might have forgiven him, a hope that he now knew was in vain. Jarrod sank into the chair and leaned back as he closed his eyes as the images from earlier that day ate at his thoughts as they had for the past several hours.

_The doubt growing in Heath's eyes while he was on the witness stand as Jarrod brutally ripped apart his testimony._

_The sadness and disappointment on the rest of the family's faces when Jarrod finished his cross-examination of his new brother and possibly hurting Heath's hard-earned credibility as Tom Barkley's son at the same time_

_The smirk on Korby's face during the entire proceeding, turning to sheer unadulterated rage when the train engineer, Bingham, positively identified Kyles as the man he saw stabbing Col. Ashby by the bright light of the locomotive._

The remembered horror and dismay on his mother's face as Nick wrestled down the fleeing Korby ripped at the lawyer and he took another gulp of his scotch. It wasn't as if he hadn't defended guilty clients whom he thought were innocent before; it was one of the hazards of being a lawyer, after all. But how could he have believed that Heath would ever make a statement that could result in a death sentence unless he was completely sure? Jarrod knew Heath wouldn't do something like that, but he'd represented Kyles anyway, his conviction that everyone, even someone like Korby Kyles, deserved fair representation overshadowing his faith in his brother.

Jarrod started to take another drink before he realized the glass was empty. He rose to his feet and went to pour another and then just picked up the bottle to take the whole thing over to his seat. He was already starting to feel the effects of the strong liquor on his empty stomach and welcomed the oblivion that would hopefully follow a few more glasses.

"Not much of a big brother, was I, Heath?" he said softly. He held his glass up in a mock toast and watched the lamplight flicker in its amber depths. "Here's to you, brother Heath. You're a damn sight better man than I am." Jarrod drank that shot down before refilling his glass again.

.

Audra set down her needlepoint as they heard Jarrod's door click shut. The family exchanged guilty glances and Nick set the fireplace poker back in its place.

"Reckon one of us should tell Jarrod supper's waiting?" Heath asked as he looked to the top of the stairs.

"Yeah, I'll go," Nick volunteered. "I guess Pappy's beating himself up over this more than we ever could."

Victoria put a cautioning hand on her son's arm and wished they had greeted Jarrod differently, not even sure now why they all felt the need to make him feel more guilty before telling him he'd been forgiven. "I think we should let him be. I'm not sure Jarrod wants any company right now. You've seen him after he's lost a big case or defended the wrong person before. He always needs time by himself for a bit afterwards. Let's just go have dinner and I'll let him know that we've left something in the kitchen for him."

She tapped on Jarrod's door after they all went up, ready to put the day behind them and start the new one afresh. Not hearing a reply, she debated whether to go in or not and decided he was likely already asleep. Knowing her eldest son's need for privacy, Victoria went on to her room instead, knowing she'd see Jarrod in the morning.

.

In spite of the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, restful sleep eluded Jarrod. He continued to see the disappointment in his mother's eyes in his dreams and the looks of betrayal on the faces of his siblings. Finally sitting up in bed, Jarrod looked at the hands of the clock, slightly illuminated by the faint light coming through the window. Ten minutes to four. Jarrod scrubbed his face with his hand and knew there wasn't much chance of just rolling over and going back to sleep, especially not with the dull pounding behind his eyes and queasy roiling of his stomach.

Jarrod dragged himself slowly out of bed. He still didn't feel like facing the family; the silent rejection of the night before was enough to tell him how they felt. As he dressed for the day, he tried to think about how much work he had waiting for him in town and debated whether it was enough to keep him busy and away from the house until he felt like dealing with the colossal mistake he'd made.

Then he thought about his office in San Francisco. There was a train leaving just after five and he likely had enough business to keep him in the city for a good week or so. That should give plenty of time to come up with ways to make amends for the way he'd treated the family. A box of Ghirardelli's chocolates for his mother, perhaps, some of those cigars Nick liked so much, and maybe a pair or two of new gloves for the ever-practical Heath. He would do what he could to secure more donations for the new orphanage his sister was so passionate about and see if he could acquire the land from Mrs. Ashby himself, anonymously or through a third party if he had to. Jarrod knew he couldn't buy his family's forgiveness, but it could make a start.

Shaking off the feeling that he was running away, Jarrod quickly packed his bag. He'd make sure to leave word with the stationmaster to tell the family where he was so they wouldn't worry and quietly slipped out of the house before anyone else woke.


	2. Chapter 2

Jarrod did his best to keep busy that day in his office in San Francisco. He perused contracts and documents that were waiting on him and had his assistant let clients know he was in town so they could make appointments. It was a bit of a juggle maintaining a practice in two different towns, but so far, things seemed to work smoothly. He stopped at a nearby restaurant on his way home for a quick dinner and it was approaching full darkness by the time he arrived at his townhouse.

A lamp was burning in the library as a shadow moved across the curtained window. Jarrod set down his case carefully on the front walk and slowly pulled out the derringer he kept in his pocket when he was in the city. He did have someone come in to clean and check on the place when he wasn't in town, but no one should be there at that time of night. Holding the pistol, Jarrod tried the front door and found it still locked. He surmised the thief must have broken in through the back as he turned the key and opened it with a soft click. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges and Jarrod tread warily, his boots making no sound on the thick carpet.

The door to the library was wide open and Jarrod saw a man on hands and knees beside his desk, going through some papers scattered on the floor.

"Hold it right there," Jarrod's deep voice ordered, his finger ready on the trigger in case the other drew a weapon.

The man straightened up sharply and hit his head on the edge of the desk. "Oww!" he yelled as he clutched the back of his head and Jarrod finally got a clear look at the intruder's face.

"Gene?" Jarrod lowered his gun, surprised. "What the devil are you doing here?"

His youngest brother stood slowly and rubbed his head with a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, Jarrod," Eugene apologized, "I guess I should've sent you a message, but I didn't think you were due back in town for a couple weeks."

"A message would have been a good idea," Jarrod said as he pocketed the gun and tossed his hat onto the desk. "I almost shot you for a thief." He indicated the chair behind the desk and perched on the edge of the mahogany surface. "Now what are you doing here? Late on your rent and Mrs. Murphy kicked you out?"

Eugene sat, still rubbing his head. "No, nothing like that. I don't know if you heard, but we had quite a storm the other day. It took down a tree that bashed in half the roof of the boarding house; it was a good thing everyone was out at the time. Pretty much all the good places near school are full and I figured you wouldn't mind if I stayed here for a while."

Jarrod crossed his arms and leaned back. "And how many of your cronies have moved in with you?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Gene laughed. "None of those slugabeds could be bothered to get up early enough to make it class all the way from here," he replied with a grin. "Never thought I'd be thankful for the way Nick pulls me out of bed at sunrise when I'm home." He looked up his older brother. "You don't mind, do you, Jarrod?"

Jarrod stood and clapped Gene on the shoulder. His youngest brother had certainly given him a warmer welcome than the rest of the family had the other evening. He wondered exactly what Gene thought of the whole affair. The lawyer knew the trial had been covered in the San Francisco papers as well as the local one in Stockton, Col. Ashby being such a prominent figure, and knew Gene would have already read about the trial's outcome, but right now he was willing to take the friendly reception at face value. "No, I don't mind at all, brother Gene. It'll be nice to have the company. Now I'm going to retrieve my things from outside. Why don't you finish cleaning up these papers and pour us each a drink? You can fill me in on how everything's going at college."

.

"So what brings you unexpectedly to San Francisco?" Eugene asked innocently as the two men sat in front of the fireplace.

Jarrod looked sharply at his sandy-haired brother who was taking a sip of his drink and suddenly felt guilty. Not facing his problems head on wasn't a typical reaction for him. He was the eldest, the head of the family; it was his job to look out for his family first and the guilt he felt at believing Korby Kyles over Heath had been such that he was ashamed to face his brother.

Gene just sat, quietly waiting and Jarrod knew he needed to own up to his failure. His pride had taken a beating from the events of that day, from what happened in the courtroom to his family's silence when he finally arrived home, but he wasn't too proud to acknowledge he was wrong and now felt doubly ashamed for leaving without apologizing to everyone.

"I guess I figured I should make myself scarce for a few days," the lawyer admitted. "By agreeing to defend Kyles, I hurt Heath, I hurt Audra and by extension, Nick and Mother as well. And I wouldn't expect you're too pleased with me, either," he added with a glance to Gene. "I thought it might be easier to let things settle down before I try to make amends for making one of the biggest mistakes possible."

Gene spluttered and coughed when he laughed right in the middle of taking a drink. He waved off Jarrod's helpful hand and started laughing again at the perplexed expression on his big brother's face.

"And just what's so funny?" Jarrod wanted to know.

Gene shook his head, unable to speak for a moment. He took a sip to clear his throat and his eyes danced as they met Jarrod's. "I never thought I'd be sitting here listening to Jarrod Barkley admit to making a mistake in front of his kid brother! It's nice to know you're human like the rest of us!"

Jarrod had to chuckle as well. "It does happen," he confessed, "more often than I like to admit." Then he grew more sober. "But I hurt people this time, Gene. My family, people I love. I discredited Heath and because of me, the orphanage lost the land it was promised. It's going to take a lot of time and a lot of effort to get past that."

"So you ran away."

"Gene, I did not-" Jarrod stopped when he saw the cheeky glint in Gene's eyes. "All right, I ran away," he acknowledged with a rueful grin.

"You know you can't run away from trouble, Pappy," Gene told him seriously, "there's just no place that far."

Jarrod smiled. Gene sounded for all the world more like the older brother than the youngest by almost fourteen years. "True," he agreed, "I guess I thought it was the better part of valour to take a little time for tempers to settle and feathers to get little less ruffled."

"A little time is all it will take, Jarrod," Gene assured him with confidence. "You know us; we Barkleys might react strongly at first but in the end there's nothing more important than our family. But you do know I'm going to remember this conversation," he added gleefully.

"Just like I'll always remember the snake in Audra's lunch pail," Jarrod reminded him and his blue eyes twinkled mischievously as Eugene's encouragement made him feel a bit better. "You know, I don't think I ever told Mother that I saw you holding that reptile only minutes before we heard Audra screaming…"

"Well, I suppose memories can fade fast," Gene said quickly, laughing. He set down his glass. "I'm off to bed. Got to be up early to get to class."

Jarrod stood with him. "I think I'll hit the hay, too. Dinner tomorrow?"

"Ernesto's," Gene came back with the name of one of his favourite restaurants, "and you're buying. Starving college student, you know."

Jarrod chuckled as he followed Gene up the stairs and reassured himself that things with the rest of the family would work out with a little time and effort.

.

.

Heath tucked the notebook in his pocket as he finished with the tally of the herd in the south pasture. Things looked good; it didn't seem as if any of the beeves had strayed or been taken by poachers or predators. He adjusted his hat before glancing at the position of the sun. It was almost noon and time to break for the lunch he'd brought in his saddlebag before he went to find Nick who was making a survey of the nearby waterholes. He moved Charger to the shade of a large tree and sat back against the trunk to enjoy Silas' sandwiches in the cool shade.

He didn't look up when he heard familiar hoofbeats and Charger whickered a greeting to his stablemate.

"Hungry, Nick?" he asked as his brother sat down beside him and rummaged in the paper sack.

"Starving."

Heath couldn't stop a small grin as Nick grabbed a sandwich out of the bag. "Help yourself." He knew Silas always packed a few extra for just that reason.

"Don't mind if I do." Nick leaned back and stretched out his long legs as he took a bite.

"Waterholes clear?"

"Yep. Cattle all there?"

"Yep."

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"How long do you think Jarrod'll be gone?" Heath asked, broaching the subject they hadn't brought up since they discovered their brother had left for San Francisco.

Nick shrugged. "Dunno. Why do you ask?"

Heath took a drink from his canteen. "Just thinking is all. About everything. What Kyles did, what his family tried to do to me, Col. Ashby, the trial…" He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He'd been doing a lot of thinking since the trial, examining and re-examining his memories of the night of Col. Ashby's murder. Jarrod's meticulous investigation had raised doubts, doubts he couldn't shake. Kyles was the man he saw running away in that alley, he was sure of that. But even though Kyles had been positively identified as the killer by the train engineer and by his own words, Heath now wasn't sure he actually saw the murder. In a way, he was grateful to Jarrod for bringing those doubts to the surface. If his testimony had convicted a man to hang, and those doubts emerged later, Heath didn't think he'd be able to live with himself.

Nick took off his hat and smoothed back his hair before replacing the black Stetson on his head. "Reckon thinking's what Pappy's doing, too. He ran off to lick his wounds, but he'll be back."

"I suppose."

There was another moment or two of silence before Nick got to his feet. "Well, c'mon, boy, got a lot of work to do around here."

Heath gathered the remains of his lunch and followed Nick to the horses. He leaped onto Charger's back and then turned to Nick. "Y'know, I reckon you can do without me for a few days." Nick started to protest, but Heath cut him off. "I'm gonna head to 'Frisco and talk to Jarrod. I need to let him know there's no hard feelings, just like I should've done when he came home the other night. Don't want him to be beating himself up over something we all know he had to do."

Nick heaved a deep sigh and nodded. "All right, Heath. Bring him back with you when you come home. Maybe the three of us can go fishing or something, Gene too if he's got a few days off."

Heath grinned. "Will do, Nick. See you in a couple days."

The next train to San Francisco didn't leave until late afternoon, so it was well past dark when Heath arrived at Jarrod's townhouse. He knocked on the door and waited, figuring Jarrod was still up by the lamp burning in the window.

The door swung open. "Well, it's about time. You had me worried…" The voice trailed off. "Heath?"

"Howdy, Gene," Heath said as he picked up his bag and walked inside.

"I thought you might be Jarrod," the youngest Barkley explained. A worried crease appeared on his forehead.

"Seeing as though this is his place, reckon that's a reasonable assumption," Heath stated and eyed Eugene closely. "What's wrong? Where is Jarrod?"

"I don't know." Gene's concern was obvious. "We were going to meet for dinner, but he never showed. I went by his office, thinking he might just be working late, but it was locked up tight. Then I came back here, in case we missed each other. I was just about to go out looking for him when you showed up."

"It's a big city, Gene," Heath cautioned as Eugene grabbed his hat and coat.

Eugene locked the door behind them as they left and sighed. "I know, Heath. But we can't just sit around doing nothing, can we?"

"Nope, reckon we can't," Heath agreed. "So how about we start by backtracking to that restaurant where big brother was gonna meet you."

The pair spent a long, futile night and even went as far as checking the hospitals. It was almost dawn before they stopped with the police to report Jarrod missing. There they received some unsettling news when the constable on duty recognized their names.

"Just got this report in," he told them and picked up a piece of paper to hand it to Heath. "Seems that murderer your brother defended, Kyles, escaped when he was being transferred to San Quentin. Swore he was going to get revenge on everyone who'd wronged him. Named you and your brother, Mr. Barkley." Heath and Eugene exchanged alarmed glances. "I'll put out the word that Counsellor Barkley's missing and I recommend you be on your toes."

"Much obliged," Heath told the constable as they left the building.

"Why would Korby Kyles want to get back at Jarrod?" Eugene wondered out loud. "He defended him, tried to get him off. I just don't understand."

Heath thought back to the trial. "Anyone who thinks our brother ain't the best is either blind, crazy or both," the blond cowboy said slowly. "I think Kyles fits in the crazy category. You didn't see his face when Bingham positively identified him. It was like looking at a rabid dog. They'll lash out at anything and I reckon Kyles blames Jarrod for not getting him off, even though our brother was the only one who gave him a chance. Me, well…" Heath shrugged and gave Gene a tight-lipped smile. "The whole Kyles family hates me."

"So where should we look next?" Gene wondered before his words were punctuated by a wide yawn.

Shaking his head, frustrated at losing time, Heath knew what they needed to do. "We go get some rest. If we're too tired, we're gonna miss something. You know I'm right, Gene," he said when his younger brother looked as if he was going to argue. "Then we'll wire Nick, get him down here to help."

The brothers trudged back to Jarrod's, tired enough that they almost missed the paper that fluttered out of the door when they opened it. Eugene reached down and picked it up. He tilted it so he could read it in the faint glow of the streetlamp.

"Heath…" He handed to paper over and Heath deciphered the almost illegible scrawl.

_I got the lawyer. Bring __$5000 to Curly's on the docks by noon if you want him back. No law. K_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. You are all the inspiration needed to keep writing and improving!_

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Jarrod woke with a throbbing in his head and when he tried to breathe, pain stabbed through his chest. He tried to think of where he was, what had happened and forced away the fog in his mind.

Well, he was someplace dark. And damp. He heard a faint scrabbling sound and jumped as he felt something scurry over his foot. Or tried to jump, as his arms were securely bound to the chair he was sitting on. Kicking away the rat who called the place home, Jarrod struggled to recall what happened.

He'd locked up the office before heading out to meet Eugene for dinner. He remembered deciding to walk, even though the restaurant was a good number of blocks away. He hoped the walk would help him sort through those things he needed to deal with before he saw the family again, especially his treatment of Heath.

Then it all came back. Passing by the alley, the figure leaping out of the shadows and knocking him to the ground. Getting in a few good hits of his own, the ache in his hand testifying to that, before everything went black. Jarrod hadn't seen his assailant and didn't know why he'd been attacked, but it obviously wasn't a robbery or he'd have woken up in that alley and considered himself lucky to even wake up at all.

Jarrod pulled at the ropes to see if there was any slack. He didn't think he'd been shanghaied. If that were the case, he didn't imagine he'd be tied to a chair; he'd likely be on a ship already. The piece his right arm was tied to moved a little as he concluded it must either be a ransom attempt or someone with a personal grudge. At least Gene would know he was missing; his youngest brother might be inexperienced, but he wasn't naïve and Jarrod knew that Gene would enlist some help and they'd be looking for him.

Not that he was going to sit idly by and wait to be rescued. From the salty tang of the air and the faint noise of the waves, not to mention the four-legged inhabitants of his prison, Jarrod surmised he was in a warehouse somewhere on the docks and knew if there wasn't anything to go on as to his whereabouts, the chances were slim to none that that he'd be found. Calling out wasn't an option either; a man helplessly bound would be an easy target for the unsavoury sorts inhabiting San Francisco's waterfront that were the most likely to hear him.

At least his legs were free, that would give him some options in trying to escape. Jarrod continued to pull against the ropes and was trying to decide if one arm was actually moving more or if it was just wishful thinking when he heard a heavy tread outside the door. He debated pretending he was still unconscious, but rejected that idea since his captor would probably just resort to some unpleasant means to wake him if that's what was wanted.

So Jarrod kept his head high and couldn't disguise his look of shock when he recognized the man entering the room. "Korby," he breathed.

"Hello, lawyer," the convicted murderer said with a sneer. Korby Kyles was even more dishevelled and unkempt than the last time Jarrod saw him and his eyes held a gleam that wasn't quite sane.

_I can't believe I didn't notice it before,_ Jarrod berated himself. He thought back to the time when he talked to Korby in the jail and realized a hint of that madness was present even then. _I should have given more credence to my brothers' opinions,_ he thought ruefully. "Korby," he said with a calm, even tone, "I thought you were on your way to your hanging."

Korby spat and the glob of saliva hit Jarrod's shoe, but the lawyer didn't flinch. "No thanks to you, _Jarrod_," he mocked, "and I think you can call me Mr. Kyles." Korby leaned back against the wall, pulled out a knife and started tossing it idly in the air.

"Now, Mr. Kyles," Jarrod said carefully, not wanting to antagonize the obviously demented man, "I did everything I could to get you off. I exposed one of our most well-respected citizens as a criminal and completely destroyed my brother's testimony." Jarrod pushed back the self-loathing at those actions. "I tried to help you, Mr. Kyles."

"Well, it weren't enough!" Korby howled. "You dragged me into that courtroom and let that train driver finger me for murder and you just sat there!" Korby stalked across the room. "You didn't do one goddamn thing to stop him!" Jarrod held his breath as the knife was waved less than an inch from his face. "You wanted me to hang!" He whirled and went back to the opposite wall and Jarrod let out a silent sigh of relief.

"What do you want with me, Korby?" Jarrod was unable to stomach calling the other man 'Mr. Kyles' any longer, regardless of the consequences.

Korby turned with a smug leer on his unshaven face. "Well, now, lawyer, you're my ticket outta here. Think that prissy family of yours'll pay five thousand to get you back?"

"They might," Jarrod said cautiously.

"There's a ship leaving in the afternoon," Korby continued and Jarrod wondered if Gene would be able to pull together that kind of money in that little time, "and I aim to be on it. Gonna take myself to the Sandwich Islands," he proclaimed expansively. "Find myself one of them pretty little island girls. Maybe even continue on to Australia. Far away from this stinking rathole." He fixed Jarrod with a steady glare. "So you better just pray they come through with the money, lawyer. Or I might just hafta sell you someplace else and I don't think you'd be too happy on a ship bound for China. The money I got for killing Ashby ain't quite enough."

Jarrod had wondered about that, so, in spite of his predicament, he took the opportunity to find out exactly why Korby had stabbed his employer. "Someone hired you to kill Col. Ashby?"

"He was getting a conscience, do you believe it?" Korby scoffed. "All that money and he wanted to give that all up!" Shaking his head in disbelief, he continued. "Ashby's partners weren't too happy, so…" He smirked at Jarrod and drew a finger across his throat, like a knife. "Paid me pretty well, but you can't never have enough money." He pulled a watch out of his pocket that Jarrod recognized as his own and checked it. "Got some plans to make. You just sit tight, y'hear?" Korby left the room, chuckling at his own joke and Jarrod resumed his task of loosening the bonds holding him and resolved to listen to his brothers more when it came to judging a man's character.

.

After a begrudged hour or two of rest, Heath and Eugene set off on separate missions. Eugene wondered exactly what Heath had in mind. There was no way the two of them alone could access five thousand dollars; none of the bankers in San Francisco knew Heath yet and Eugene didn't even have five hundred dollars in his account at the moment. _You should never play poker with James and Rafe_, he rebuked himself, _at least you would've had a little more to help out Pappy, even though it still wouldn't be close to what we need_. But Heath said he had an idea and gave Gene one of those crooked grins of his before sending the youngest Barkley off to wire a message to Stockton. So Eugene followed his brother's instructions and sent the wire home, even though it was likely no one would get it in time to help before Kyles' deadline.

It probably would be wise to have some help, Gene reflected as he went to meet Heath, but the young man had the utmost confidence in his new brother's abilities. He hadn't known the blond long, but he trusted Heath as much as he trusted Nick or Jarrod. If Heath said they could handle finding Jarrod by themselves, Eugene had no cause to doubt him.

Arriving early at the café where they had arranged to meet, Eugene ordered coffee and waited. He tried to think of where Curly's might be, but the waterfront wasn't a place the college student tended to go. He sipped his coffee and looked up when a weathered leather case was set on the table in from of him.

"Got it," Heath announced as he sat across from Eugene. He flashed a crooked grin at the waitress and asked for coffee. "You order breakfast yet?"

At the shake of Gene's head, Heath added, "Eggs, ham and biscuits for both of us."

"Right away, sir."

Heath turned back to Gene as the waitress went to get their order. "You don't want your stomach growling when you're trying to tail someone," he explained to his brother as Gene eyed the satchel.

"What's in there, Heath?" Gene wanted to know.

Heath leaned back as the waitress came to pour his coffee. "Why don't you look and see?"

With a curious glance to Heath, Gene lifted the case off the table and undid the clasps. His eyes widened as he saw the tidy bundles of bills.

"Heath, how the devil did you get all this?" he exclaimed.

Heath took a sip of his coffee. "Remember Jarrod's friend, Brett Skyler?"

Gene nodded. "Yeah. Didn't Jarrod got his sentence reduced for giving up information about the counterfeiting ring Brett was part of?"

"Uh huh." Heath reached over and closed the case. "Monroe, the secret service man who was in charge of the case, was real impressed with our big brother. Impressed enough that when I told him about our trouble, he let us use some of that counterfeit money to help free Jarrod." He paused as the waitress brought over two heaping plates of food and then picked up his fork. "Eat up, Gene. Not only do we have to get our brother back, we've now got to make sure and return this to the federal government."

Heath's plan was simple; he would position himself to watch as Eugene handed over the money. Since he'd arrived late and had only been at the house briefly, Heath hoped Kyles wouldn't realize he was in town. Heath also reckoned the convicted felon would think Gene was just some wet-behind-the-ears kid, not anyone to be taken seriously. The brothers would then follow him separately once Kyles had the money. Even if one of them lost him, the other would still be there to tail him to Jarrod. The only problem would come if Kyles wasn't intending to let Jarrod free and didn't return to where he was holding him. In that case, they'd just have to try their luck in catching Kyles and beating the information out of him, neither man voicing the concern of how risky that might be.

.

Gene ordered a whiskey as he took a seat in Curly's Bar, glad of Heath's suggestion that they both wear their oldest clothes. Anything looking new would stand out amid the grime and unwashed nature of the bar's patrons. Trying not to think too hard about the cleanliness of the glass, Eugene managed a sip of what the bartender had served him. He was glad Heath had his back, even if he wasn't exactly sure where his blond brother was watching from. This wasn't the sort of place a young college kid was safe or comfortable.

Eugene smelled him before he saw the man slip into the chair beside him. Looking over, he wondered when the last time Korby Kyles had a bath or changed his clothes. The miasma of stale sweat mixed with the sickly sweet odour of opium turned Gene's stomach and he drank a bit of the loathsome whiskey to try to cut the foul smell.

"You got the money?" Kyles said in a low voice.

"Right here," Gene answered and gestured at the satchel on the chair on his other side. "How do I know you have my brother?"

Kyles pulled something out of his pocket and dangled it by its chain. "Reckon this'll prove it."

Gene recognized the watch as the one given to Jarrod by their father when he earned his law degree. "And how do I know you'll let him go?"

Kyles grinned. "Now you'll just hafta trust me, won't you?" Kyles' voice was smooth, almost oily. "I don't mean the lawyer no harm, he did try to get me off, even if he did a poor job of it. Just need the money is all. I'll send you a note on where to find him, after I've counted that and made sure it's all there."

Eugene hesitated before handing Korby the case. "So help me, Kyles, if Jarrod's been harmed in any way, my brothers and I'll hunt you down, I swear it."

Kyles snorted. "Don't make promises that're outta your league, kid," he said derisively. "Besides, you sure your brothers'll help? After the way the lawyer tore apart that bastard? Don't seem like much family loyalty there."

Gene surged to his feet and grabbed a surprised Kyles by the front of his shirt. "Don't you ever call my brother that again," he snarled and was gratified by the expression of shock tinged with fear on the loathsome face. "He's more of a man than you can ever hope to be. Both of them are." He pushed Kyles back against the chair. "If I don't have Jarrod back in an hour, I'm coming after you, Kyles. Count on it." He stalked out of the bar and sagged briefly against the doorframe to catch his breath, having surprised himself with his display of bravado. But it wasn't really bravado if he meant it, and Gene had meant every word. He ducked around the corner out of sight to keep an eye on the door. It wasn't long until Kyles left the bar and Gene followed at a discreet distance. He knew Heath was doing the same and prayed that they were being led to their brother.


	4. Chapter 4

Jarrod's arm ached and the pain in his chest was worse than it had been, but he was making some progress in getting free. The arm of the chair he was tied to was coming loose so with one more determined push, he wrenched his arm to the side and was rewarded with a crack of breaking wood. Jarrod didn't waste any time in tugging off the rope still binding him to the chair, tossing it and the broken wood onto the floor.

He prowled around the walls, looking for means of escape. The grimy window that shed the little bit of light in the room was too high and too small to go through and when he tried the door, Jarrod found it securely locked. He debated trying to smash it open, but it was solidly made and with the likely broken ribs from the beating Kyles had given him, he wasn't sure he could manage it. The only thing in the room he could possibly use as a weapon was the chair and he lifted the biggest piece, not sure if it was heavy enough to do much damage. _Oh, well_, he thought grimly_, beggars can't be choosers._ He settled against the wall by the door to wait and tried not to dwell on what would happen if Kyles just decided not to come back.

Or if he came back with company. Jarrod was under no illusions that Kyles would honour any agreement he made; if he thought of it, Korby was likely to sell him to a crimp or someone else involved in the traffic of human beings as well to try to get as much money as possible. The lawyer knew he had a chance of overpowering his captor with the element of surprise on his side, but if there was more than one man, the odds worsened considerably.

_It's your own stubborn fault you're in this mess_, Jarrod told himself. _You knew Kyles was trouble, but you let your lofty ideals of fairness and justice override your common sense. And then you didn't stay and own up to your mistake. _Jarrod sighed. Running away was never the answer. If he hadn't been selfishly wallowing in his own guilt, he would have remembered that. He should have just walked into the parlour when he arrived home that night, should have stood up and admitted his mistake like a man and asked his family for forgiveness. That was what he should have done and Jarrod vowed that was exactly what he was going to do when he saw them again, provided it wasn't too late and he actually got the chance.

He heard footsteps outside the door and Jarrod tightened his grip on the makeshift club.

The door creaked open. "Now that I got the money, lawyer, whadda reckon I should do with y- ?"

Jarrod swung the piece of wood straight for Kyles' head, but the other man noticed the movement and ducked out of the way so Jarrod only hit a glancing blow. Kyles grabbed hold of the wood and attempted to rip it out of Jarrod's grasp, but Jarrod hung on and then abruptly let go. Kyles overbalanced and staggered backwards. Taking the momentary opportunity, Jarrod rushed him and struck a solid blow that sent Kyles reeling backwards into the wall. Pain lanced through Jarrod's chest at the impact, causing him to stumble and he was unable to follow through. Kyles took the opportunity to pull his revolver and as the gun fired, Jarrod felt a searing pain through his shoulder and sank to his knees. He stared at the red stain growing on his shirt and heard another shot. Jarrod wished he'd taken the chance to say he was sorry to his family as he braced himself for the end.

.

Heath sidled up to Gene as they saw Kyles enter the warehouse.

"Think that's where he has Jarrod?' Gene asked quietly.

"Hope so." Heath pushed back the wool cap he was wearing instead of his customary Stetson and surveyed the building. It only had one door that he could see and only a few windows very high up. "Reckon the best way in's through the front. Let's go." He pulled his gun and was gratified to see Gene do the same. Even though he wished Nick were there, Heath could tell the youngest Barkley was made of the same stuff as his brothers and the blond had no reservations that Gene would have his back. He motioned for his younger brother to open the door and he quickly moved through and scanned the area.

The sounds of a struggle came to him and Heath rushed through the open door at the back of the large space, Gene hot on his heels, and was just in time to see Kyles draw his gun and fire. Reflexes taking over, Heath pulled the trigger of his own pistol and Kyles fell as the slug caught him cleanly between the eyes. The blond knelt beside his dark-haired brother and grabbed the bandana from his pocket to press it firmly against Jarrod's bloody shoulder.

"Gene, leave me your coat and go find a doctor," he instructed.

"Take care of him, Heath." Gene took one last backward glance as he hurried off without argument to seek medical help.

Heath covered Jarrod with Gene's coat and increased the pressure on Jarrod's shoulder, eliciting a gasp and he smiled as he saw the blue of his brother's eyes. "Just hold still, big brother," he advised. "We'll have you up and around in no time."

"Heath," Jarrod whispered, "how…?"

"I was wondering if you'd take me out for dinner at one of them fancy restaurants you like," Heath said with a lopsided grin. "Guess I'll have to take a raincheck."

"I'm so sorry, Heath… should have trusted you, believed-" Jarrod inhaled sharply as Heath shifted his weight to apply more pressure.

"Got nothing to be sorry for, Jarrod," Heath reassured him.

"But I made everyone doubt you… made you doubt what you'd seen…"

Heath shook his head and thought back to that day on the witness stand and back even further, to the night of the stabbing. "Reckon you were right about that," he admitted slowly. "I saw Korby running and guess my mind just filled in the actual murder. Course it helped no one else was in the alley, but you made me think, Jarrod. Made me realize I didn't actually see Kyles kill Col. Ashby even if he was guilty." Heath's blue eyes locked with Jarrod's. "Guess we both were convinced we were right."

Jarrod closed his eyes and Heath was relieved to see some of the guilt vanish from his face. "Hurts…"

"Gene's gone for the doctor and he'll fix you up." Heath grabbed the back of Jarrod's neck. "You stay with me, Jarrod, you listening to me?"

"I'm listening, Heath," came the reply, "and I'll listen better in the future. I promise."

.

It was a beautiful afternoon. Eugene had a free weekend and the four brothers decided to take some time off and play a little hooky. They raided the kitchen for supplies and headed out for a day at their favourite fishing hole. They amassed a tidy catch and Nick volunteered Gene to clean the fish while he started a fire to fry them up for lunch. Gene grumbled good-naturedly about bossy older brothers but agreed anyway after stating cheekily that since he caught the most, it was only fair that he did the honours.

Jarrod leaned back against the tree that hung over the bank and closed his eyes in the drowsy midday heat. His ribs and shoulder were mostly healed and the rift that threatened his family seemed mended as well. Even Audra had forgiven him before the news came that Mrs. Ashby had reconsidered and was again donating the land for the much-needed new orphanage. But he couldn't shake the last bit of guilt he had over his treatment of Heath, in spite of his brother's words of absolution after the shooting. Heath may have forgiven him, but Jarrod still wasn't sure if he'd forgiven himself.

"Penny for your thoughts, big brother."

Jarrod looked over into the sky blue eyes so much like his own as Heath sat down beside him and stretched out his long legs. "Are you sure they're worth that much?" he asked, only half in jest.

"Maybe not," Heath agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small grin. "Don't reckon you'll give them to me for free?"

"Just thinking about how fortunate I am that you're my brother, Heath," Jarrod said after a long pause. "And thinking about how I should be doing a better job of showing it."

Heath pushed back his hat and gazed across the lake. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Jarrod," he advised. "I'm proud of the kind of man my brother is, a man who stands up for what he believes is right, no matter what others have to say about it. Reckon I'm pretty lucky you're my brother, too." He reached over and clapped Jarrod on the shoulder in a gesture of brotherly reassurance. Jarrod covered his hand with his own and sent up a prayer of thanks for his wonderful family.

"But if you ever do anything like that again, big brother…" Heath gave him a shove and Jarrod toppled down the small bank to hit the water. Jarrod came up spluttering, but couldn't help a chuckle when he heard Heath's laughter. Calming himself a bit, Heath rose and extended Jarrod a hand. "Need a little help?"

Jarrod took the offered hand and hauled himself onto the bank, dripping. "Always, brother Heath," he said with a grin, "to keep me humble, if nothing else." He slapped Heath on the back and the last of his guilty feelings vanished. "Come on, let's go get some lunch before Nick eats it all."

As they left the lakeshore, Jarrod felt secure in the knowledge that though their bond as brothers might be stretched or bent from time to time, it was something that could never be broken and he reflected again how there was no place far enough to run from trouble, the only place to take care of it was home with his family where he belonged.


End file.
